A kindness
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon takes care of his sick partner, though he has an ulterior motive for Illya to get better fast. pre-saga
1. Chapter 1

He woke with a start, gasping as he heard the alarm clock on night table call to him with its annoying ring.

Grabbing it, he tossed across the room. It smashed against the wall, though the bell continued to ring in its death throes.

Illya sat up, bleary eyed and feeling congested. He tried clearing his sore throat, without success. Coughing harder this time, he realized his body was aching.

"Chyort!" He was sick, really sick.

Picking up his communicator, he called headquarters and was transferred to medical.

The doctor on duty determined, after having Kuryakin take his temperature, that the Russian had a bad cold. He was advised to stay in bed, drink plenty of liquids and take aspirin for the fever.

"I'll inform Mr. Waverly that you're out of commission. Feel better Mr. Kuryakin."

"Dthank you, out." He shoved his communicator under his pillow, next to his gun.

Illya rose from his bed, thinking he'd go to work anyway but when his head began to pound, that made him change his mind.

Shuffling into the kitchen after putting on his slippers, he made a cup of tea for himself. For once he wasn't hungry but knew he needed to eat.

"What was it Napoleon always says...feed a cold and starve a fever? Or is it the other way around?" Illya asked himself.

Opening up the fridge, there was nothing in there but a jar of pickles, two eggs and hunk of moldy cheese. That wouldn't do. The bread box had a half loaf of white bread in it. He could make toast, though he was out of butter. Dry toast, just wasn't very appealing at the moment.

There was only one cabinet where he kept canned goods. He opened that and dug out a can of Campbell's condensed chicken noodle soup...that would do.

Setting a pot on the stove, he opened the can and poured out the soup, and adding a can of hot water...it was ready to be heated.

The soup was hot in no time and Illya sat at the kitchen table, slurping it down one spoon at a time. The bowl of hot, steamy broth eased his stuffy nose, that was at least a positive thing.

Once done, he set the crockery in the sink...he'd do the dishes later, put the pot with the remaining soup in the fridge. Right now his bed was calling to him as he was suddenly feeling very tired.

Just as he got comfy under the blanket his communicator warbled.

"Tsk. Kuryakin," he answered.

"Well good morning to you sunshine," Napoleon answered.

"You are too cheery for my daste today. Wha'd you want?"

"Are you sick?"

"How as-dute of you. I hab a cold and was told by Medical to stay homb.

"Can I bring you anything tovarisch?"

"Yes please. Borscht, and blini from the deli on…"

"I know where it is. What about chicken soup?"

"I had a can of it for breakfast."

"Illya that won't do. You need fresh home made soup. I'll pick up the ingredients and make a batch for you later on. In the meantime drink lots of liquid and keep warm...take aspirin too."

"Yes Doctor Solo. I amb going to sleep now. Out."

Napoleon showed up around four o'clock with the requested borscht and blini along with a whole chicken, replete with gizzards and a bag of small egg noodles. He had fresh celery, a bunch of carrots, as well as some oranges, apples, a box of saltines, a half dozen eggs, a fresh loaf of bread, and butter. He let himself into his partner's apartment, and after resetting the alarm, he put the groceries in the kitchen.

Before taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves to start cooking he looked in on his partner. He found him rolled up in a tangle of blankets, definitely looking under the weather.

"Hi there, how you feeling?"

"I honestly can dot use da word 'fine' for once.

Ahhhh-choo!"

"Bud' zdorov."

"Sthpasibo. Ahhh-choo!" Illya honked as he blew his nose into his handkerchief.

Napoleon spotted a bottle of aspirin on the night stand.

"When was the last time you took any of these?"

"Dis morning, I dhink?"

"Well you're overdue. Be right back."

Napoleon made a mug of tea, and brought a tumbler of water as well. Once the aspirin was swallowed, extra pillows were added and fluffed and the bed covers straightened. After all that, he returned to the kitchen.

"Ready for your borscht and blini?"

"Not really. I am dot hungry."

"Whoa, really? Well I'm going to make fresh chicken soup, and you're going to eat that. Capisce?"

"Sí." Illya covered his face with the blanket.

He thought back to the last time anyone had ever fussed over or taken care of him. Back when he was at university...there was a girl he was seeing, a ballerina. She was from what was considered a better family with political connections. He was but a poor student, and in training to join GRU, though she never knew that.

She was sent away to another school after their illicit little affair had been discovered. Sofiya Pavlovska was the last person who ever showed him love and cared for him, really cared.*

And now there was Napoleon, his partner. The man had worn down his defenses, and disarmed him with the Solo charm. He was his friend, a true friend.

With that thought Illya dozed off. He was woken later to the smell of the soup. It called to him and he got out of bed. This time he put on his robe...which had been a Christmas gift from Napoleon, along with the slippers.

He plodded out into the kitchen. "I can actually smell that."

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"Napoleon I am not a cripple...besides I needed to go to the bathroom," he lied.

"Well, sit down. The soup is ready."

Napoleon ladled some into a bowl and set it in front of his partner.

Illya looked at it, noting the carrots and celery were added and there were big chunks of white meat in the broth as well. He finally tasted it.

"Oh, this is bery good."

"Maybe it'll unstuff that nose of yours so you can speak clearly tovarisch," Napoleon laughed.

After downing two bowls Illya decided he needed to take a hot shower, and doing so helped relieve some of the congestion as well.

When he was done, he found Napoleon had not only done all the dishes and cleaned up, he also put fresh sheets on the bed as well.

"Someday my friend you will make someone an excellent wif...husband." Illya decided not to dig at him, not after everything Napoleon had done for him.

"Thank you for that positive thought. Hopefully I'll make it to retirement age and meet the girl of my dreams."

"And thank you for your kindness and taking care of me Napoleon. I do appreciate it very much."

"Hey, that's what friends are for," he grinned."Now go back to bed. I'll check in on you in the morning."

"Hopefully I will be well enough to return to work."

"Good thought, but don't push yourself. I need you to be better by Friday."

"Why Friday?"

"Because I have a double date set up for us with the Stork twins."

"The ones with the big…"

"Exactly."

"My friend I will endeavor to be myself by then as we must not disappoint the ladies."

"Good night tovarisch and sleep well."

The same to you Napoleon."

Illya listened as he heard his partner reset the alarm before leaving. Once alone, he went back to the kitchen and heated up the borscht, and blini.

He was feeling better already, not only in body but in spirit as well...

.

* ref. "Someday."


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon had invited his partner along on a double date with the Stork twins from headquarters, as they were new to UNCLE.

For once the Russian did not protest as he was interested in Clayina, who'd been assigned to translations. She seemed quite intelligent, among other things.

Napoleon had his eye on Aegina who worked in the secretarial pool. She and her sister were attractive and well endowed, as well as being platinum blondes, all plusses in his book.

Solo decided upon drinks at a cozy little club to start the evening, where they could be more intimate in their conversation.

Trouble was when they arrived, it was anything but intimate and quiet; the place had been decorated for Halloween, the waiters were bedecked in skeletal costumes, and most of the patrons were in costume as well. There was strange music being piped into the room and it gave a odd _**flavour**_ to the already Halloweenish atmosphere.

How Napoleon had missed this aberration was already annoying him.

Illya leaned over, remarking on the entertainment. "That music is from the science fiction film 'Forbidden Planet." It was considered quite innovative as it was an electronic music score, credited as electronic tonalities."

"Whatever it is, I don't care for it at all," Napoleon groused."Ladies, we can go someplace else if you prefer."

"Oh no Napoleon," Aegina fluttered her eyelashes." This is groovy. I just love Halloween."

"Me too,"Clayina chimed in."It looks like they're going to have someone telling fortunes. See the sign by the crystal ball. "Madam Grusha, psychic."

A waiter approached the table. "What can I get you folks to drink tonight?"

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks," Napoleon said."And you Aegina?"

"Rum and coke for me please, easy on the ice."

"I will have a vodka martini dry, shaken please with extra olives," Illya said, looking to his date.

"Oh I'd just love one of those pretty drinks...a _**pink**_ squirrel please?"

.

Plush red velvet curtains parted across the room, drawing their attention as an older woman dressed in what could only be an attempt to look like a gypsy, glided towards the table where the crystal ball was located.

"Ewww can we get our fortunes told?" Aegina squealed.

"Oh I don't see why not?" Napoleon winked.

They rose from the table, heading over. For a small fee Grusha read Aegina's palm, followed by her sister's. It was nothing earth shattering and merely an amusement as far as Illya could see.

"What about your crystal ball?" Illya suddenly asked in Romani, the language spoken by the Roma gypsies of Europe. Illya had gypsy blood and was familiar with their ways, having spent some of his childhood with his Uncle Vanya in their Roma encampment in the forest of Bykivnia back home in the Ukraine.

Her eyes widened with surprise. " _So'i tjiro nav?"_ She asked him his name.

" _Miro nav si o Illya Kuryakin."_

" _Where are you from?"_ She continued to question him.

" _I was born in Kyiv."_

" _You do not look like Roma, how do you come to know our tongue?"_

He lifted his sleeve, quickly flashing his eagle-of-Shqiperia charm bracelet to her. " _I am a son of Kuric, and of the line of Ursari."_

He'd bought the bracelet in a marketplace Rome; it came in handy once while helping Napoleon with a personal matter in Terbuf. Still it was part of his heritage and he kept it. Something made him wear it tonight...

" _Ursari? I knew of that tribe once but they are all gone, wiped out during the war."_

" _Not all, as I am the nephew of Ivan Ursari, called Vanya. Now that you know who I am, you must tell me who you really are?"_

" _I am Nadezhda, of_ _Ruska Roma. My family name is Ponomaryova. My people are Servitka from eastern Ukraine. I must say that it is surprise to meet someone from back home...so many of us were lost. Now I live here in New York eaking out living reading palms and such."_

" _Yes it is a surprise indeed," Illya nodded; he reached into his pocket, paying her fee even though she hadn't done a reading for him._

" _Na! You pay, you get a reading, but this time I will use crystal ball.'_

" _Nadeshda Ponomaryova, I do not believe in such things."_

" _Well watch and learn...humor an old gypsy cousin."_

How could he refuse her?

She closed her eyes, slowly waving her hands above the ball and moments later it was filled with an undulating green haze.

" _Someone is near,"_ she droned.

A face appeared in the ball, looking straight at Illya...a face he knew all too well. In a moment of panic he jerked back out of his chair, knocking it to the floor.

"Not possible!" He hissed.

" _Illyusha Syad'te!"_

He sat as ordered, how could he not obey as it was...his father.

" _Papa?"_

" _Listen boy, you are in danger. Your companions are not who you think they are. Beware,"_ the image and voice of his father began to fade.

" _Papa do not go?"_ He pleaded.

It was too late. Nicholaí Kuryakin was gone.

Nadeshda opened her eyes, blinking a few times.

"What happened?"

"Good question," Illya said as he rose to face the Stork twins. Listening in, the two had raised hands, each aiming a gun at Solo and Kuryakin.

"I don't think so," Napoleon whispered."Can we go someplace else? Too many innocents here."

"Oh all right,"Aegina moaned."This wasn't supposed to happen this fast. It's all your fault gypsy!"

At that moment Illya dove at the twins, creating enough of a distraction for Napoleon to draw his gun dart both Stork twins; if that was really their name.

The agents lifted up the sisters, supporting their limp bodies as they headed towards the exit.

"Can't hold their liquor," Solo explained to the other patrons.

Illya looked back but _Nadeshda Ponomaryova_ and her crystal ball were gone...


End file.
